


Junioritis

by CadmeanVixen



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety, Awkwardness, Coming of Age, Depression, Drama, Exhaustion, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Insecurity, M/M, Mental Breakdown, POV First Person, Romance, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-07 04:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadmeanVixen/pseuds/CadmeanVixen
Summary: Some say junior year is the hardest year of high school. Of course, these people are only referring to academics. For some, however, junior year is more than a heavy work load. Like every school year, it could be filled with bad luck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Kyle**

Summer vacation is almost over. Even though this summer has been fun, I'm still kind of excited that school's starting soon. I don't understand why I always end up looking forward to the next school year by the time it's August. Just like every other year, I know I'll get sick of it and want summer to come back. Okay, maybe I don't get _sick_ of it. It would be difficult for someone to be a straight A student if they had no interest in what they were learning whatsoever and saw school as a burden. I guess the better term for it would be... burnt out?

I'm usually taking advanced classes, so burn out is only to be expected from me. It's not like the honors classes I took in freshman and sophomore year were overwhelming. They just had more homework than the regular classes, and that got boring after a while. However, this year might be different. While I used to take around two to three advanced classes in previous years, I'm planning on taking five AP classes for my junior year. Stan thinks I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. I know it might seem like it's too much for me to handle, but I just want to make sure I can get into a good college later on. After all, the weighted gpa will do me a huge favor. Assuming I get straight A's, anyway.

Maybe that's the reason I seem to be especially anxious about the upcoming school year. It's going to be a new challenge for me. I'm not even sure if I've been accepted into all of those AP classes. Even though my test scores are great and my grades are perfect, there could still be some hidden rule about how many AP classes you're allowed to take. Or maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Whatever the case may be, the high school said they would release our schedules online today. I guess I don't have to wait anymore.

After preparing for the day and eating breakfast, I head to my room and start up my computer. There is a pinch of excitement in my stomach as I wait for it to turn on. Once it is finished starting up, I log onto the website the school uses to help us keep track of our grades and check out my schedule. First hour is AP English. Second is AP Calculus. Then there's AP US History, AP Biology, World History, AP Physics, and Spanish Three. Good. Every single class I signed up for is there.

After checking a few other things on the internet, I log off of the computer and leave the house. I'm heading over to Stan's place today. Even though I'm excited to start school, I still want to make the most out of this summer. As I've said before, I might burn out. This year is definitely going to be more stressful than the previous years. I forgot to mention, we also have a bunch of standardized tests to prepare for and take. This set of tests is also more important than the previous ones. I better try my best to fight through this.

I knock on Stan's door. It isn't long before my friend answers it and lets me in. Once I'm settled down in the living room, he asks me, "How are you this morning?"

There is a small warmth in my stomach when he asks that question. It's so stupid, but I just can't help it. I've been having this feeling around him for three years now, and for whatever reason, it won't go away. I didn't want to admit it for the longest time, but I have feelings for my best friend. Even though it's clear that he's only ever shown an interest in the opposite sex, my heart won't let it go. I feel like a girl in middle school right now, discovering love for the first time. I can't believe I have this stupid crush at the age of sixteen! Shouldn't I be better than this by now?

"I'm doing great," I respond. Thankfully, I don't blush, "and how are you?"

"I'm doing alright."

When Stan excuses himself from the room to get some snacks, I thank God for not making this moment awkward. There have been times when my face would turn a ridiculous, vibrant shade of red around him. And of course, he would ask questions about it. Sometimes, he would even grow concerned about my health (which only made it worse). I blame it on being a redhead. Even with my hair being more of an auburn color than a ginger one, and with my skin allowing me to pass as a 'daywalker', as Cartman would call it, I still have a complexion to my skin that makes a blush really show. I guess that as long as you have even the slightest tint of red in your hair, you will suffer with this problem no matter what.

At least Stan doesn't pick on me for it. He almost never picks on me for anything, especially now that we're older. And even then, it's just playful teasing. It almost seems mandatory to have that in a friendship. Though, compared to what people generally consider a normal amount of teasing between friends, he seems to be slacking. For how close we are, I sometimes can't help but find it strange. At the same time, though, I guess I tend to take things too personally. I've been told numerous times that I overreact to things. Although this is something that even Stan has criticized me for, it's never his intention to put me down for it. I guess the reason why he doesn't playfully tease me is because he doesn't want to accidentally provoke me. Or it could just be that it isn't really in his nature to do that sort of thing. Either way, it's one thing I love about him. It's nice to be around someone who will let you live some of your more embarrassing moments down. Or not make you self-conscious about your flaws.

When Stan returns with a bag of chips and some snack cakes, he asks, "These are all the snacks I have at the moment. Would you like some?"

I glance at the snacks for a second and respond, "No thanks. I just had breakfast."

I wait until he's settled down on the couch next to me, before asking, "Our schedules for the upcoming school year are online now. Have you checked yours yet?"

"No."

"Do you think you could check it real quick? I want to make sure that we have some classes together."

In order to appease my request, Stan grabs his phone, so that he can check his schedule out. It's obvious that my prodding is the only thing making him check what his classes for junior year are, right now. Knowing him, he would have probably forgot to check his schedule until he was at school and it was almost too late to get a hard copy of it. Yes, that's right. For whatever reason, the school doesn't mail our schedules to us, unless you're a freshman. They just assume that everyone will check out their classes online and not leave it for the last minute. Even though they've _witnessed_ students arrive late to their classes on the first day, because they forgot to check their schedules beforehand. That's why it's a good thing Stan has someone like me around. Maybe I can be a bit obsessive, even annoying, when it comes to reminding him of his responsibilities. But it _is_ a common occurrence for him to neglect important tasks. I can't just let him fall victim to that flaw and be one of _those_ upperclassmen, who don't know where they're going on the first day after attending the same school for at least two years. That would be awkward. I'm not trying to patronize him or anything. I know he's a competent student. I just want to help him do his best.

Once Stan has his schedule on his phone, he says, "I have AP English, Algebra ll, Space and Earth Science, Basic Art, World History, Advanced PE, and Information Technology."

It's obvious that Stan doesn't want to take some of those classes. He must have picked them because there was room left on his schedule and he didn't know what else to pick. The thing about being an upperclassman is that having a bunch of electives sounds fun at first, but then you realize that there are no classes left that you want to take. Especially since there are limitations on what you can take. For example: no one is allowed to take more than one art class in a year. I honestly have no idea what classes I'm going to take in senior year. I'm already taking most of the AP classes my high school has to offer.

Stan takes a moment to put his phone away and asks, "What classes do you have?"

I tell him all my classes, and he says, "We only have two classes together? That sucks."

"Well," I try to reason, "we have the same fifth hour, so that means we will have the same lunch period."

"Sure, but we've always had more than just two classes together. And we've always had the same lunch period. The classes we have together this year aren't even that fun."

"It could be worse. There's a chance that we wouldn't have had the same world history class. And if I hadn't convinced you to join AP English, we wouldn't have the same first hour. There is also a fifty-fifty chance that our lunch periods would be the same if we didn't have the same fifth hour. That would mean that we would hardly ever get to be around each other at school."

"I know. I'm just not used to having so few classes with you."

The subject is dropped, and Stan is over it as soon as we stop talking. I know he was never _upset_ about this arrangement. That just wouldn't be nessicary. I have to agree with him, though. We normally have at least four classes together. This will kind of suck.

It's not as if I was expecting him to do a bunch of AP classes with me, though. I knew we probably weren't going to have many classes together. It was just another thing I told myself to deal with this year.

"Hey, Kyle?" Stan speaks up, once again.

"Yes?"

"I know I've asked you this before, but are you sure you're going to be able to handle all those challenging classes? I mean, five AP classes sounds like a lot. Even for you. You're even taking a third language, when you can already speak English and Hebrew fluently. Do you really need to learn Spanish? And if you really want to learn a third language, wouldn it be a better idea to replace one of the AP classes with something fun? So you can have a break from all that work?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to manage just fine, Stan. And of course I find it important to learn Spanish. It's one of the most commonly spoken languages in the world! It might make me more employable when I start working, since we live somewhat close to the Mexican border and there are a lot of people in this state who can only speak a few words of English."

"...I'm not saying any of this to offend you. I just don't think it's a good idea."

I know I'm probably getting too defensive, but I'm getting sick of him bringing this up whenever the upcoming school year is mentioned. So, I retort, "Stan, I've told you a million times that I'm going to be fine. I've taken many challenging classes in the past, I do extremely well on standardized tests, I get straight A's, and a lot of people say that I'm one of the smartest, hardest working students in the school. I'm going to be _fine_! Now can you please drop it?"

Stan obeys my request and says nothing more. However, in an act of tentative rebellion, he gives me a brief look of concern. I don't care, though. As long as we aren't talking about my schedule, maybe I can find inner peace before our junior year starts. Seriously, I don't have as much of a problem with the stress this year might give me until Stan brings it up. Most of the time, he's laid back. It isn't like him to be concerned about my school schedule, since he believes I can handle a lot when it comes to academics. The fact that he's now worrying for me is making me nervous! Isn't he aware of how much stress he just gave me?

Even five minutes after our argument, I'm still angry with him for bringing this all up. I know it might sound petty that I'm getting worked up over our disagreement, but he can't understand what it's like for me. I'm a perfectionist. I want to be the best I can possibly be, regardless of the cost. And for him to doubt me like this, even if he means well, bothers me a lot more than it should. I wish I wasn't like this. I miss being satisfied with who I am and having no worries. It feels like a thousand years have passed since I was that carefree child. It almost feels as if I never was that carefree child. I really hope this is just a phase or a symptom of puberty. Though being a perfectionist has it's benefits, it can sometimes really suck.

The worst part is, I'm ashamed to even have this problem, because it means I have an annoying, flawed personality. I feel like people like me aren't taken seriously. People find perfectionists annoying. I don't blame people for finding me unpleasant. My stupid need to be perfect prevents me from acting normal. I've lost my sense of humor over the years, too. I also think my perfectionism is the reason why people label me as emotional, sometimes. I'm beginning to realize that I can never be satisfied, because of the way my current mindset is, but at the same time, I can't get rid of the desire to be perfect. I'm finally starting to see results from all my hard work. Perfectionism is just an endless cycle of ups and downs.

"Kyle?" Stan's voice takes me from my thoughts. His voice makes me grow aware of my weird behavior. I'm sitting with my knees close to my chest, my hands won't stop fiddling with my clothing, and I just realized I was staring blankly into space for a long period of time.

I force myself into a normal sitting position, despite my urge to remain curled up, and turn to face Stan. I ask, in an attempt to be as casual as possible, "Yeah?"

However, my friend isn't fooled. I must be a bad actor, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I reply, but I keep a straight face. There's no point in trying to act cheery right now. It would make me look like I'm trying too hard to cover up the fact that I overreacted.

"I'm sorry that I brought up your AP classes again. I guess getting through those classes must mean a lot to you. I won't ever bring it up again."

I let out a sigh before saying, "No, Stan. You didn't do anything wrong. I overreacted."

"You didn't overreact. I keep bringing up your AP classes, and I can understand why you'd get sick of that. I mean, I can't be the only person who talks about it. Your parents probably bother you about it, too. Even though they're the ones who kept telling you to challenge yourself in school. And I'm sure Cartman will start rubbing it in as soon as he finds out you're taking all those classes. I really need to stop telling you what to do with your schedule. It's your choice, and you probably already get enough grief for it."

"It's okay. I forgive you."

I'm lucky to have Stan as a friend. He's always willing to apologize to me when he feels that he's done something wrong. He almost never does anything wrong. I can't help but feel a little guilty for making him apologize. Sometimes, I feel like I make him walk on egg shells when he's around me. He doesn't need that in his life. I have been trying to act more easy going around him. Yet even when I'm calm, he still tends to act cautious around me. Despite my failed efforts to be a better friend, he's still patient with me. What did I ever do to deserve him?

Just thinking of how loyal he is to me causes my face to warm up. Oh no! It's happening again!

"Excuse me," I tell Stan, refusing to face him, "I need to use the bathroom."

While I'm still making sure that he can't see my face, I try my best to walk casually to the bathroom, after he says, "Okay."

My body is urging me to run, but I keep walking. I don't want to draw attention to myself by fleeing. That would make things awkward. I've already argued with him today. I don't need him to wonder why I feel the need to run to the bathroom, when I showed no signs of even needing to go in the first place. He'll probably think there's something wrong with me.

First, I attempt to rid myself of the blush by splashing cold water on my face (I try not to get my clothes wet in the process, but I'm frantic right now). When that doesn't work, I try to think about things that are disturbing. War. Gore. Starving people. Why isn't this working?

When worst comes to worst, I always have a trick up my sleeve that's never failed me before. I imagine Cartman without his clothes. Yep, it worked. I no longer feel anything. I know, it probably sounds terrible that I use a mental image of Cartman to stop myself from blushing. At the same time, though, I can't stand him. I was his scapegoat when we were kids, because I'm a Jew. Actually, I'm still his scapegoat. Sometimes I question why my friends and I still hang around him. I guess it must be pity. Or maybe it's because of some of the things he's capable of.

I'm getting off topic. The point is, he disgusts me. Both in physical appearance and personality. As much as he pisses me off, though, at least I'm no longer blushing. Or experiencing any of the... unpleasant side effects of doing so.

I return to the living room, and for the rest of the time I'm at Stan's house, I manage ignore my feelings for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Kyle**

It's been a week since Stan and I received our schedules online. Tomorrow is the first day of school. I'm not as nervous about junior year as I was a week ago. I just went shopping for school supplies, so now I feel more prepared for this upcoming school year. Plus, I have been reviewing some ways in my head that I can make this year easier on myself. I plan on doing as much of my homework as I can while I'm at school. That way, I won't have as much to do when I'm at home. I'm also going to study a lot more often than I used to. Believe it or not, studying wasn't something I really had to do up until this point. The content was easy to figure out and remember. But I know that from here on out, I'm going to have to try harder. I've heard too many people tell me that AP classes are harder than honors classes. And I've never taken more than three honors classes in a year.

Stan and I decided that we wanted to spend our last day of summer out doors and away from family. That's why we are currently at Stark's pond. I figured that this would be a quiet, peaceful location for us to spend the last day of summer. Luckily for us, there is no one else out here to bother us. We have the pond all to ourselves. These are the things I want during the last day of summer, anyway. Stan wanted our other friends to come, but they were either busy, uninterested, or out of town. I don't understand why he sees this as a bad thing. But maybe I fail to understand his perspective because I want to spend some time alone with him. I personally don't believe we spend enough time alone with each other.

However, I wish it had been a little warmer today. It's only the beginning of September, but it's been chilly all day. It wasn't so bad in the morning and afternoon, but this evening is rediculously cold. I know that summer is short here at South Park, but it's usually not this cold at the beginning of September. I'm not just being pathetic either. I'm use to living in cold weather. Stan seems to agree with me about this, too. So it's definitely colder than usual.

Despite the weather, we are having a lot of fun. In order to stay warm, Stan and I played a bunch of games that required physical activity earlier. But now that we're worn out, we're spending the rest of the evening sitting at the pond and talking as the sun goes down. An hour of happy conversations takes a depressing turn when I, for whatever reason, feel the need to mention a problem that has been bugging me for the past few days, "Stan, can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course you can."

"I over heard my parents talking a few days ago, and it looks like we might not be doing well financially at the moment. My dad's not getting as many clients as he used to, for whatever reason. It's probably just a dry spell that will pass soon, and it hasn't really affected us that badly. We're just on a little bit of a budget at the moment. I'm just worried that it might get worse. My parents seem to be somewhat concerned, too."

Stan processed everything I just told him for a moment before responding, "I'm sure it won't get worse. As you said, it's probably just a dry spell. Your dad has always managed to support you and your family in the past. I'm sure it will be fine."

"You think so?" A spark of hope flutters about in my stomach just from hearing him say that everything might turn out right.

"Yes. But if things don't turn around for the better, I'm sure it won't be as bad as it is for Kenny. His parents don't even try. I know that yours will."

Relief washes over me. Stan has a point. I know my parents will try to prevent a financial disaster from happening. And as terrible as it sounds, I doubt I'll ever have it as bad as Kenny when it comes to wealth (Seriously, I sound like Cartman right now. How embarrassing!). I just don't like the thought have having financial issues while I already have enough on my plate. As I said before, I am not as nervous about the academic load as I used to be. I just don't need anything more to worry about. Besides, I don't even want to think of the things Cartman would say if I ended up being poor. To him, it would be too ironic for a Jew to be poor.

The conversations lightened up again, until only a sliver of sunlight remained at the edge of the horizon. Stan stood from the bench and said, "We should go now. It's dark and freezing out here."

I nodded my agreement and followed Stan on the way to his house. I felt like staying the night at my best friend's house because Ike has been such a pain to be around lately. I don't know what's gotten into him, but he has this terrible attitude and starts getting snappy towards me for no reason. It reminds me of the time when he received the wrong medication as a toddler and started going through puberty for a little while. Since then, I've dreaded the day that he would start going through puberty naturally, as there's not much you can do about that, except wait it out. But he can't actually be starting puberty now, right? I mean, he's only ten, turning eleven in December. Stan and I didn't start until we were twelve, so ten seems a bit early. I guess it's not that crazy, though. I just don't want to go through that again, so I hope his toxic attitude is just a phase.

When we arrive at Stan's house, we are quick to sneak into his room. His parents are fighting. Again. Nothing new here. We just don't want to get involved.

It isn't long after we enter the room that Stan offers me the warmest blanket he has. For the past couple of years, he's always insisted that I try my best to keep warm. According to him, I'm 'really thin, so it's harder for my body to generate heat.' That's right, he's genuinely concerned that I'm going to freeze to death one day. Sure, I find it cute, but at the same time, it's ridiculous. And a little offensive too. I hate to admit, but I'm small. And unfortunately, Stan has a tendency to think that I'm more fragile than everyone else because of that. I get it. It's human nature to be more protective of things that are small. But come on. I'm not that small. I'm not going to shatter like glass from a gentle breeze, either. I'm just a couple inches shorter than the average male. I'm also close to being underweight, but I'm still healthy! And I'm not weak!

When Stan's parents leave the living room, Stan excuses himself to make us some hot chocolate. Now that I'm alone in the room, I snuggle into the blanket. I didn't realize how cold I was until I entered this warm house. It doesn't feel like any amount of warmth is going to make my shivers go away. I must have gotten a mild case of hypothermia while we were outside. That's okay, though. Maybe I can use that as an excuse to snuggle with Stan. We're such close friends, we don't even care if it's gay for two males to cuddle. I'm gay for him, anyway. But despite the fact that he doesn't care if we 'act gay', he still doesn't want to do such things in public. I guess I can understand why.

Back to the topic of cuddling with Stan, his scent is all over this blanket. It's radiating in the air and surrounding me. I'm overwhelmed. He has such a unique scent. While some guys at school are incapable of controlling their body odor or are guilty of putting on too much colongue, Stan prefers to keep his scent less pungent. His scent is more like recently washed fabric, mixed with something else I can't quit describe. I'm not very good at deciphering scents. All that's important is that this my crush's scent. It's the only scent I care to remember. The only one I need to remember.

God, I'm starting to sound creepy!

Stan returns with the hot chocolate, and I'm relieved to be taken from my scent obsessed thoughts. He hands me a mug and I guzzle it down. He must have let it sit for a bit before serving it to me. Otherwise, my mouth and throat would be burning. Instead, my body is welcoming the warmth and my dry throat wants the hydration. Seriously, my throat has been parched for the past couple of hours. We didn't drink that much water, despite all the physical activity. So this warm fluid running down my throat is making my entire body melt.

"Jeeze, dude, you must be thirsty!" Stan says, when I'm finished drinking, "I'll go get you some water."

While he's gone, for the second time in the past fifteen minutes, I lean towards the nightstand from where I'm sitting on his bed, so that I can lazily grab a few tissues. I'm a little embarrassed that I let a stream of hot chocolate run down the corner of my mouth while Stan was around. I pride myself for being a clean person, so doing something like that just doesn't feel right to me. Besides, my stupid nose is starting to act up. I feel messy right now. I better take care of this before my friends comes back. I want to be presentable.

When Stan returns with the promised water, I'm more careful not to guzzle it down. I still manage to finish the entire glass in under a minutes, though. It was a sixteen once glass, too, so I'm probably going to need to use the bathroom a lot tonight. Oh well, I couldn't help how thirsty I was.

Stan settles down onto the bed next to me. He grabs a blanket that is lying in a crumpled ball on his bed and wraps it around himself. Since it is only about eight, we decide to watch a movie before falling asleep just to pass the time. About fifteen minutes into the movie, though, I'm still freezing. I take advantage of this and snuggle up to Stan. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer to himself as he asks, "Still cold?"

"Yes."

"Here," Stan gently pushes me away and shifts, "why don't we share your blanket? It's a pretty big blanket, so we'll both fit in it just fine. And you'll be warmer that way."

"Okay." I reply. I hope I don't sound too eager.

He grabs a loose end of my blanket and wraps it around himself. Once he's in my puffy cacoon of warmth, he embraces me once again and I relax in his arms. He's so warm! I'm still shivering, but at least I know this will help me get over these chills faster. After about fifteen minutes of this, my friend seems concerned, "You're still shivering. Are you okay?"

I reply, "I'm fine. It's getting better. We've just been outside in the cold all day, so this isn't anything out if the ordinary."

"Well, okay then."

Stan returns to watching the movie (I honestly don't care much for it, I just want to cuddle my crush right now), and sure enough, my shivers go away halfway through it, and I'm growing drowsy. My muscles start reminding me of how much I abused them today, and my joints want to remain in a bent, rested position. It doesn't help that I'm now warm and being held in Stan's strong arms. Even if I wanted to stay awake, I think it would be impossible. My body is begging for rest and I feel as if nothing can hurt me, since Stan is holding me.

I close my eyes and nuzzle my head against his chest. He doesn't mind. In fact, he encourages this behavior by playing with my hair. He probably thinks I'm too tired to notice what I'm doing. Or notice what he's doing. I know he's nurturing, and that we have been best friends since we were toddlers, but I sometimes wonder why he waits until I'm 'asleep' to do this sort of thing. I want to believe that he has the same feelings for me as I do for him, but that's probably just wishful thinking. As I've said before, he's only shown a romantic interest in girls. But still, he doesn't do this sort of thing when he thinks I'm awake. He also refuses to do this in public. Am I wrong about him being one hundred percent straight? Or am I reading into things too much? Because, you know, wishful thinking!

Come to think of it, he hasn't dated any girls in the past couple years. He and Wendy broke up in seventh grade. Her reason behind doing so was because their relationship wasn't deep or mature. They were boyfriend and girlfriend as kids, and probably didn't understand what love was at the time. Stan wasn't upset about it like I thought he would be. I found it odd. Whenever Wendy broke up with him when we were kids, he would grow depressed for a while. I guess she was right. Kids don't know what love is. It was all probably play pretend. Maybe the reason why my friend was so down every time they weren't together was because he felt obligated to one day get married to a girl he found decent. I hope that makes sense. I just feel like society pushes this romance thing between a man and a woman too hard. Just think of all the times parents and teachers talk about how cute it is when a young boy and girl pretend to be in a relationship. A romance between a man and a woman is also shown a lot in the media. A lot more often than love between two men. Especially when we were younger.

Anyway, back to the topic of Stan's dating life. I haven't seen him date a girl since eighth grade. He went on dates with a few girls after he broke up with Wendy, but those relationships didn't last long. They were never serious to begin with. After that, for whatever reason, he stopped.

I don't understand why he stopped. He's always been nice to look at, and as he matures, he only becomes more handsome. Plus, his personality is amazing. He could easily score a nice girl. Even though I love him, I'm also kind of jealous of him. My love life is pretty much non-existent. Ever since middle, my confidence dropped. Obviously, I'm still functional, but I've never bothered trying to date anyone. I guess I've been discouraged from doing this sort of thing at a young age. Every time I tried to get with a girl, Cartman ruined it for me (we were kids though, and as I've said before, those emotions probably weren't real anyway).

Now, for whatever reason, I can't help but think that I'm somehow inadequate. Sometimes, I feel ugly. Well, maybe not ugly, but I certainly don't feel attractive. I'm five foot seven inches. I have an afro that refuses to be tame no matter what I do (though I will admit, it has gotten better over the years, but I wear a hat most of the time, anyway). And I have a sharp nose. You don't usually hear those features being listed as attractive on a male. Only the height could be considered attractive for a female, but that's just preference.

My appearance doesn't bother me as much as one would expect, though. It only bothers be sometimes. The notion of Stan considering me good enough to be around is good enough for me to forget about it completely. It's just too bad that I'm not always thinking about that reassuring fact.

I need to turn off my thoughts for a moment. My mind and body are in desperate need for rest, now. I also feel like I'm going on and on about things that don't matter that much.

So, I doze off...

But unfortunately, I am awoken after what feels like one second of unconsciousness. It was definitely more than that, though. The TV's off now and Stan is nudging me so that I get off of him for a moment. He doesn't want to sleep sitting up. I don't blame him. It's uncomfortable.

When we are both lying down, he wraps an arm around me once more. This time, I'm able to fall asleep for good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Stan**

My alarm goes off, but I ignore it for a while. Even though I had a normal amount of sleep last night, I'm still tired. That's not surprising. Kyle and I spent the entire day outside yesterday.

I feel a bundle of warmth next to me. At first, I'm confused. I look down and find Kyle. That's a relief. For a moment, I thought there was a small monster next to me. For whatever reason. I must be a little out of it this morning.

Speaking of Kyle, he won't even wake from the alarm. That's odd. He's usually a light sleeper. I guess he's worn out from yesterday's activities, too.

I free Kyle from the loose hold I have on him and nudge him, "Kyle, it's time to wake up. We have to be at the bus stop in an hour."

Kyle groaned. Yep, he's definitely tired.

I slide out of bed and change into my day clothes in the bathroom. I've decided to give my friend five more minutes to wake up. He probably needs some time to get out of his deep sleep. When I return to the bedroom, I find Kyle sitting up in my bed with his eyes half lidded. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get so much excersise the day before school starts. He looks miserable. I just hope this doesn't make him cranky today. I know that a lack of rest can do that to him.

I walk over to him and sit on the side of the bed. I ask, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes," He replies in a quiet, tired voice, "I just feel a little groggy."

"Would you like me to make you breakfast?"

"Sure, that would be nice."

I figure that if I make breakfast for him, he will be in a better mood. It will give him time to take a long shower if he wants. I just hope he gives me time to take one. Though I won't be too bummed out if I have to wait until after school. I shower every day, and since it was cold outside yesterday, I didn't get sweaty. So, I still look well-kept.

There's a tube of cinnamon rolls in the fridge. I unravel them and arrange them on a baking sheet before placing them in the oven. Afterward, I make coffee. I realize that Kyle doesn't like having too much caffeine. It seems to be easy for him to end up having too much of it. I blame it on his weight. He's only one hundred and twenty pounds. So he's a light weight. Maybe if I fill a mug halfway with hot chocolate and halfway with coffee, it won't be so bad. He really needs the energy this morning, so it will be worth a shot.

By the time Kyle is ready for the day and downstairs for breakfast, the cinnamon rolls are out of the oven and cooled off with frosting on them. Kyle grabs two of the eight rolls and places them on a plate. I hand him his mug of coffee mixed with hot chocolate. I'd made sure to add a small amount of caramel coffee creamer to the drink before handing it to him. I personally believe that a mixture of coffee and hot chocolate isn't sweet enough on its own.

There is about a half hour before we have to leave when we start eating. I take four cinnamon rolls without hesitating. I don't understand how Kyle can eat so little. At least, compared to me he doesn't eat very much. In all reality, he probably consumes a normal amount of calories everyday. It's just that guys his age tend to eat a lot more than what's considered normal. Maybe that's why he's so thin compared to me. I have a huge appetite.

We head out to the bus stop when there's ten minutes left. Kenny shows up not too long after. Cartman doesn't arrive at all because he has a driver's license now. I hope that I can get a license soon. Maybe then I can drive Kyle, Kenny, and I to school instead of waiting for a bus. I don't know why Kyle doesn't want to get a license. It would make his life so much easier. He wouldn't have to ask his parents to drive him places, pay for public transportation, or walk to wherever he needs to go. He doesn't want to talk about the reason why he doesn't want to drive, though. He acts ashamed of his decision not to drive whenever it's brought up.

Even though we've been friends for pretty much our entire childhoods, there are still some thing I don't understand about Kyle. Especially during these past few years. He's changed a lot since we were children. He used to be carefree. Now, it feels like he has some kind of anxiety disorder. I don't mean a severe one, but it does seem to affect his life. I kind of think his mother had something to do with it, but I'm not going to hold it against her. She has her flaws, but I know she tries to be a good mother. At the same time, it could just be in his nature. Maybe he's always had this problem, but it didn't become obvious until recently. I mean, Ike isn't like that, and he was raised in the same household.

I shouldn't be jumping to these kinds of conclusions about my friend. I'm not a psychologist. But I am genuinely curious as to what goes on in his mind. Something tells me that he experiences more stress than the typical person, and I feel bad for him.

The wait at the bus stop and the ride to school is quiet. This isn't anything out of the ordinary, though. Ever since Cartman stopped riding the bus, we've been a quiet group. No offense to Cartman, but it is for the better. It was annoying how much he would antagonize Kyle most mornings. I keep telling my friend to ignore him, but he can't do it. He's become more sensitive over the years and Cartman has gotten better at striking him where it hurts. Of course, Kyle's never given him the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He still ended up doing it sometimes on the bus, though. He's good at hiding it. Only Kenny and I ever notice, but we never made a big deal out of it when he started crying. We didn't want to drag attention to it. I'm sure he's grateful for that.

We arrive at school and dread the fifteen minute wait until first hour starts. This is going to be boring. Or it least, I thought it was.

I guess Cartman feels like hanging out with us right now. I don't make a big deal out of it, though. It's best to act like you want to be around him. Otherwise, he'll try to make you miserable. It might be too late for Kyle to realize this, I can't imagine it will be easy for him to make Cartman find a new scapegoat, but it's not too late for me.

"Oh, hi, Kahl," he starts off in a casual tone, "Have you shrunk? You look really short."

Unfortunately, Kyle is agitated by the petty, poorly thought out insult, "You just saw me a week ago. Clearly I'm the same height now as I was then. Or are you too stupid to notice that?"

"Oh, no! You called me stupid!" Sarcasm laced Cartman's voice, "Come to think of it, you were pretty short then, too. It's like you stopped growing two years ago. How come you're suddenly a midget?"

"I'm not a midget! I'm not even that short. I'm only a little shorter than average. But I could still grow!"

"No, you're pretty short. Five foot and five inches is a lot shorter than the average male."

"I'm five seven!"

"That's still short."

It's too bad Cartman had a growth spurt in the past year. Two years ago, Kyle was five feet and six inches and his antagonist was only two inches taller than him. Then, I could use Cartman's hypocrisy against him and make him feel insecure about his own height (don't say he didn't have it coming). Now, he's the same height as me. He's five feet, eleven inches. Now, I just have to try and make them stop fighting without hurling an insult of my own at Cartman, "Can you two please stop this? This argument is really stupid. Height doesn't even matter."

Thankfully, the two stop talking to each other and Cartman walks away with a smirk plastered onto his fat face.

I can't help but have some sympathy for Kyle. In my oppinion, it's stupid to obsess about height. But that's easy for me to say. I don't get picked on because I'm kind of tall and probably still have some growing left to do. Kyle, on the other hand, took a whole two years to grow an inch, and he's kind of short as it is. It doesn't look like there's a lot of hope for him to grow much taller, with how slowly he's growing. At first, it confused me. He was a normal size when we were kids. Now he's just... small. It makes sense to me now, though. His mother is very short, and he seems to take after his mother quite a bit. He's probably even lucky to be as tall as he is now, with his mother only being five feet tall.

The first bell of the morning rings; signifying that there's only five minutes left to get to class. We already put our backpacks away into our lockers during that stupid argument, and we have all the things we need for first hour in our arms. It only takes us a minute to walk to our first hour class from our lockers. It's too bad that Kyle isn't interested in talking about anything right now. I'm kind of in the mood to chat before class starts.

Even when the second bell rings and our AP English teacher introduces himself to the class, Kyle won't lighten up. That's typical of him. He's not too great at getting over things.

Though I must say, there's something mesmerizing about the way he looks right now. It's been a while since I last saw him in flourescent light. It really makes his eyes look a lot greener and lighter than when we're hanging out in the dark lighting of our bedrooms. I usually don't notice how green they can be because I'm not very observant when it comes to trivial physical traits such as eye color, and I also don't get much of a chance to see a decent amount of light reflected on them outside of school. To me, they just look dark most of the time.

But right now, they're the most beautiful shade of green I ever saw. And the way his dark auburn brows are furrowed makes this sight all the prettier. Pretty? Did I just refer to my friend as pretty?

He turns his head towards me in one swift motion. His pupils are somewhat pinpointed from the bright light and they pierce right through me. They call me out for staring. They are demanding that I stop.

Whether I want to or not, I obey the silent request. Thank God I never pay too much attention to his eyes. It's dangerous for me to look into them for too long. If I do, they start to control me. I suddenly want to do everything I can to please their master.

What?

I'm just going to pretend Kyle isn't sitting next to me for a while. I'm starting to get weird thoughts about him. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time. Ever since middle school, I became more interested in him. I wanted to spend more time with him, even though we were already labled inseparable by our parents, based on how we spend almost every day hanging out with each other. Sometimes when he's sleeping I find myself playing with his hair or gently rubbing my fingers against the side of his face. I know it's not normal for friends to do that. I know that I probably want to be more than friends with him. But for whatever reason, I don't like the idea. It feels weird. Besides, Kyle probably doesn't even share these feelings. He probably would've told me if he did, right? We're good friends. We can talk about stuff like that.

But I won't even admit my own feelings to him. I've wanted to tell him, but I don't have the courage. So instead, I pretend that I only want to be friends with him. At first, it was easy to do, but as time goes by, it gets harder. My feelings for him won't go away. I even tried to date girls in order to forget about these feelings, but it only made me want him more.

This is one of those times where I don't want to be around Kyle. No, actually, I want to be around him pretty bad right now. What I meant to say was that this is one of those times where I can't be around him. Just like most kids, I'm always glad when first hour is over. But today, I'm thrilled to hear the bell ring.

I glance over at Kyle as we leave for our second hour. He doesn't appear agitated anymore, but he still doesn't look like he wants to talk to anyone at the moment. That's fine. I'm no longer in the mood, either. I'd rather wait until lunch. By then, I'm sure these weird thoughts I'm having about Kyle will go away.

Unfortunately, once I'm over it in the middle of second hour, time decides that it wants to slow down to a snail's pace. It's probably because I'm now looking forward to lunch. Either that, or it's because my teachers for second, third, and fourth hour are that boring. That's not a good sign. It's only the first day, and they've already managed to bore me.

At lunch, Kyle is in a much better mood. Probably because Cartman is no where to be seen. I guess he got stuck with having lunch after fifth hour. Sucks to be him. I personally don't like to wait that long for lunch. Sure, people are always welcome to bring snacks to school and eat them in class, but I always forget to do that.

Kyle eats more for lunch than he did for breakfast. I guess he just wasn't very hungry this morning. Or being angry made him as ravenous as he is now. He's done eating long before I am, and we had the same amount of food on our trays.

When we're finished eating, I ask, "Are you feeling any better?"

He perks up upon being asked the question, "Yeah, I feel a lot better. Especially now that I ate."

Typical. Kyle doesn't eat much on a normal day, but he can be a stress eater. His exhaustion from waking up this morning and the argument must have caught up with him, in terms of hunger.

Since Kyle was in a better mood and had finished his food, he was talkative for the rest of lunch. He wasn't going on and on about things that are uninteresting either. He was just willing to talk to anyone who wanted to have a conversation with him and we all joked around a bit. It was one of those rare times when Kyle would start laughing and wouldn't stop. Moments like this are precious to me. Seeing him happy fills me with warmth. His smile has the power to turn a bad day into a good one.

When it's time to head to fifth hour, Kyle and I walk down the hall and look forward to the next hour. I'm no longer bored with school. In fact, I'm happy I get to hang out with my friend again. I still wish we had more classes together. I miss the days when we were kids and were able to spend every single hour of school with each other. We both had the same teacher throughout the entire day, so we would always be in the same classroom.

Then middle school happened. Looking back, the arrangement of our schedules wasn't that bad. We would usually end up with five to six classes together. But at the time, I had a feeling that this schedule thing would get worse. And I was right. Now, I'm going to be more bored than ever this school year.

Fortunately, Kenny is in our fifth hour as well. I'm surprised there's even one class on my schedule all three of us are in. Sure, World History is required for graduation, but there was a chance that the three of us would be split up and have different hours with this class.

Not only that, but the teacher seems to be pretty laid back. He only spent twenty minutes going over the class expectations and what not. The rest of the time is ours. So I ask Kyle, "Didn't you say that you have the same teacher for World History as you do for AP US History?"

"Yes."

Kenny decides to enter our conversation (thankfully, he doesn't wear the hood of his parka anymore, so we don't have to strain to understand him), "You're going to have two easy A's, then."

"Not nessicarily. The teacher told us that AP US History is harder than you'd expect. Apparently, some kids end up having breakdowns midway through the year. It's also difficult to pass the AP test. I bet he was just exaggerating, though. I'll still take his word for it because he says it's hard, of course. Just in case he's not making this all up."

"How can AP US History be hard?" I say, "We've been learning US history regularly since, I don't know, second grade? Won't it just be another repeat of everything you already know? Sounds like a pointless class, if you ask me."

Kyle gives me a look, but tries to keep himself from sounding offended, "Actually, it's not pointless. It's important to make sure that we remember our country's history. Besides, we'll be learning about a bunch of things that aren't taught in the regular US History class. It'll be interesting!"

I feel a little guilty for questioning the classes Kyle chose to take, once again. But I don't dwell on it. It was an honest mistake. I'll just try not to do it again. I apologize, so that he forgets about it, "Those are good reasons to take that class. I guess I just jumped to the conclusion that you weren't going to learn anything. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Stan. A lot of people probably think the same way about it as you did. I bet half of the people in that class are just taking it because they think it will be an easy A. No offense, but some of those people don't look like they're capable of handling an AP class."

For a moment, I'm relieved that Kyle forgives me, but then Kenny decides to ruin the moment, "Stan, you're too eager to please Kyle. You make more of an effort to make sure that he's happy than a typical friend would. Do you want something more from him?"

"What!? Of course not! We're just really good friends!"

"Yes, you must be really good friends. Come on, Stan. You're a terrible liar. All Kyle has to do is act slightly annoyed with something you're doing and you'll stop. He has a lot of power over you because you love him so much. You probably wouldn't even mind being his servant, at this point. Though, Kyle certainly isn't abusing his power, so I take it the feelings are mutual?"

At this point, Kyle has his head turned to the side, as if he's embarrassed by the conversation. A pink blush is forming on his face. I personally feel that the room became a little warmer because of what Kenny just said. Too warm. All I say is, "Shut up, Kenny."

Kenny smirks, "I'm just saying."

The rest of World History is awkward, thanks to Kenny being the weirdo he is. Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with him, but I don't like it when he tries to pair me up with Kyle (of course, I'd love it if we were together, but it still feels weird to me). Sometimes, he can be outright vulgar about my feelings for my best friend. What I hate the most is that, I sometimes do fantasize about these vulgar suggestions. Poor Kyle. He doesn't need me to be creepy like that.

The rest of the school day flies by. That's good. I've had enough of Kenny's weird comments for one day. We return back to my house. Kyle's been wanting to stay over at my place a lot lately. Apparently, Ike sucks to be around now. That's okay, though. He's always welcome to come over. My parents pretty much see him as part of the family at this point.

Not too long after we enter the living room, Kyle kicks off his shoes, sets his backpack on the ground, and collapses onto the couch. He lays down and gets comfortable. I ask, "Are you starting to feel exhausted again?"

"Yes, definitely. I feel more tired now than I did this morning."

"I'll let you rest, then."

I prepare something to eat and keep Kyle in mind, in case he doesn't plan on sleeping right away and is as hungry as I am. I only spent ten minutes preparing something when I go out in the living room and find my friend fast asleep on the couch. He looks cute right now. His hat is a little askew, since it's been pushed up by the arm of the couch. A few strands of his curly red hair are peeking out onto his forehead. His mouth is open a tiny bit and he's in a bit of a fetal position. I stare at him longer than I should.

The sight brings me joy. No matter what, he always manages to look cute. Even his hair is nice to look at, and that's the thing he seems to hate most about his appearance. That's why he still wears a hat all the time. It's a hat that looks exactally the same as the green one he had as a child, but just a bigger size. He must have really liked that hat, if he still wants to wear one just like it to this day. It's probably a comfort thing.

Still, I wouldn't mind seeing his hair more often. He seems to have gotten a lot better at taking care of it, as it doesn't look so much like an afro anymore, but more like a bunch of curly hair. As someone with straight hair, I have no idea what he's doing to make his hair look so nice. It looks like a nightmare to take care of, in it's natural state. He's always wearing that hat, too. That seems like it would make his hair even messier. Yet, it's so soft and fun to stroke. I hope he doesn't know that I touch his hair when I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's asleep.

But I'm not going to pet him right now. I'd rather eat my food, and there's no room for me on the couch. So instead, I pass the time by watching some TV until Kyle wakes up.


End file.
